The Ghost of Sherlock Holmes
by TheCoolestGirlDJ
Summary: John thinks he having hallucinations a year after Sherlock's death, but what is it really? First Sherlock fanfic. Not Johnlock but if you look at it that way it can be. R&R and enjoy if its good


**A.N. Sorry about any gramar and spelling mistakes. Also this is my first Sherlock fanfic and I really hope it isn't to awful, but if it is can you please let me know? One last thing, this is from John POV so I really hope I did him justice... Sorry if I didnt. Oops I almost forgot I got the prompt from Tumbler, I can link it to you if you ask**

It's been a year since Sherlock left; I still live at 221B Baker St, only because I don't really want to go anywhere else. I still blog even, not that it's as popular as it was before… before he died. People have finally stopped slandering Sherlock's name, they now just believe he was crazy, more so than they say he made Moriarty. I've stopped waiting for my miracle from Sherlock; I've stopped waiting for anything from him. I've also accepted that he's not coming back; I think that's what has led to my hallucinations. I can see, hear, and even feel Sherlock now, not that's it's actually him, he did die. But he's been here for also a week now, talking to me, acting like he's walking on glass around me, not that he would be very good at it, that's why it's not him, he would try and just waltz back into life, figuratively and metaphorically, not try and make sure I, or anyone else was okay, he would continue on being Sherlock, solving his cases and shooting walls, because that's what he does.

The strange thing I've noticed about this hallucination is that it is either making me eat more food and I don't remember or it actually is eating. Either way it is trying to make me think it's the real Sherlock. Not that I believe it, but I haven't him, it, that yet. I've just continued on with how it was before Sherlock's… death. I tried to not even react when he walked thought the door and claimed to have never died, that he faked it, and although that does seem like something Sherlock would do he wouldn't come back to me first, I would think that would go to Lestrade or Mycroft before me, but I didn't ask about it, I just let him in and asked if he had any cases. He did look at me funny for a moment but then went on saying that he was still laying low, he wasn't going to take any cases, or even go out in public for a while still. Again, more reason to believe it was just my imagination; Sherlock would never willing stay in one place for very long.

* * *

It's been another week; 'Sherlock' is still here. We have still just gone on like normal, well as normal as we are, on one has been over, or came to see me in that time. It's starting to make me wonder what's going on and does it have something to do with 'Sherlock.' He still eats like a normal person; he feels like a normal person, talks like Sherlock would, even about things I don't know about. Oh hang on, Mrs. Hudson is back and she's coming up here. 'Sherlock' is asleep on his chair. I'll be right back.

* * *

Oh. My. God. Oh my God. It really is Sherlock. That is really him. He really didn't die. He really came back here. Oh my God. Mrs. Hudson can see him too, she saw him sleeping on the couch. Let me explain how it went.

_Mrs. Hudson comes up the stairs calling out "John dear, are you here?" I replied that I am and that I am and she may come up, then she does. When she opens the door she looks at me and smiles saying "Hello John, I was…" and stops, looking directly at where 'Sherlock' was sleeping. "God Lord, Sherlock is that you!" She practically screams. I stop dead in the middle of the room. _

_"Mrs. Hudson." I whisper. "You can see him too?" She just nods. Sherlock, who blotted up when he heard his name stood there staring at me._

_"Well that explains why you never reacted." He thought out loud. "You didn't think I was here. Please tell me you didn't actually think I was a hallucination, even with me noticing things you never would and telling you things you couldn't know." _

_"You…!" I start, but then stop. "There is no words to tell you how just… awful you are!" I yell at him. "You make me think you're dead for a year and then come back like you went out for lunch!" _

* * *

He still hasn't said anything to me, or at least anything that matters. He tried telling me that it was for my own safety, that people were watching my, our, flat. I believed him enough that I figured that was true but I did not even remotely believe he had no way to contact me. I must go now; I have a "highly functioning sociopath" to murder, or at least seriously harm.

**A.N. (Sorry for another one) Let me know if anyone is to OOC. Thanks**

**DJ **


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